


no question

by edgaristheoneinthehole



Series: it takes time [1]
Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Blood, Drowning, Fire, Guns, M/M, Temporary Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-04
Updated: 2014-03-04
Packaged: 2018-01-14 13:33:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,323
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1268278
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/edgaristheoneinthehole/pseuds/edgaristheoneinthehole
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ray wondered if he was dead.</p>
            </blockquote>





	no question

**Author's Note:**

> its kinda ah ot6 but maybe not??? so i tagged them all  
> shame on you ah fandom once more; ryanray isnt common and im pretty sure jackray isnt even HERE

Ray never liked waiting in line. Maybe because it wasted his time but, in his mind, he disliked the proximity of people he didn’t know. Which was the reason he usually used the self-checkout, in small coffee shops, however, that was impossible. It didn’t matter that it was his favourite coffee shop, with its homely brown walls and workers he’d come to know over his time spent there since he moved to Austin.

It didn’t take a lot of time for him to get to the counter, something he found odd but just thought he’d spaced out, smiling politely at the woman with blonde hair on the other side, to which she just asked: “The usual?”

“Yeah,” Ray nodded, moving his hand to grab his wallet, something that she grinned and shook her head at.

“You don’t get it, do you?” she laughed, hair spilling out of her bun, “just… just go sit down, I’ll bring it to you. It’s on the house.”

Ray opened his mouth to argue, to ask questions, but before closed it with a click, not wanting to say no to free food. Maybe because, yeah, he did know what was going on, he needed to pretend a while though.

He turned around, noting that the café was empty except for him and the woman, swallowed and sat down at one of the tables, the soft white couch around it feeling too soft, like it was swallowing him.

It didn’t take long for the woman to come up to him, a cup of a steaming drink in her hands, which she placed on the table, grinning: “You know, drinking too much coffee can cause a latte problems.”

He groaned, words he’d said thousand of times in the back of his throat but he forced them down, telling her to leave. She did, frowning and Ray wondered if he should have accepted the company she offered with the pun.

The coffee was too bitter to be his ( _you stole my coffee, you shit_ ), Ray noted, after tasting it. He rose, clutching the Styrofoam cup in his hands, moving towards the exit.

In what almost felt like an afterthought, he dropped the cup in the bin, opening the door: “See you!”

As soon as the door closed after him, Ray noted that the street, while not empty like the café, was emptier than Ray thought it would be. It almost felt like he was in a small town not Austin but Ray shook his head, ignoring the thought.

After he stopped being trapped in his thoughts, however, he heard a voice from the other side of the road, a call of: “Ray!”

Startled, Ray searched for a familiar head among the few people on the pavement, spotting a brown-headed man yelling quickly enough: “It’s not like I’ve been screaming for two minutes straight, _take your time_ _!_ ”

The face didn’t register for a long time, during which the man, tugging the beanie he wore down, sighed and turned around. The moment he did however, Ray remembered him, remembered him _so clearly_ ( _please tell me you’re kidding, I swear if you-_ ) and he wanted the shout the name _so badly_ but his mouth felt like it was full of cotton. Glancing to both sides of the street, confirming that were in fact empty, Ray ran.

When he was about halfway across the street, the man turned around, eyes widened, yelling something, but Ray missed it as suddenly, he was on the ground and, wow, was the blood on the ground his, it sure as hell didn’t feel like it.

_(this)_

* * *

Ray awoke with a gasp, hands flying to his throat out of some kind of instinct. It didn’t take long to control his breathing ( _a lie? You know better than that_ ) before his hands dropped down, tracing designs on his thigh. The moment he noticed the fact, the hands stopped, being unnaturally still on top to his body ( _I swear, you try to tickle me every time you do this_ ).

Getting out of bed, Ray refused at stare at the room any longer than he had to, the bitter-sweet memories making him want to puke. He didn’t look at the closet while he picked out clothes, closed his eyes in fact, after he was certain he had what he needed, he left the room hastily.

The door closed too quietly. Then again; everything was too quiet since-

Refusing to dwell on that, Ray moved towards the bathroom, feeling like a shower would help him out. Opening the door to the room, Ray took in his surroundings, noting that the pictures on the walls were taken down ( _we should put them in the bathroom! It’s the most used room, right? Everyone should remember!_ ). Good.

Getting in the shower, stepping away from the splash zone, Ray moved his hand upwards on the knob, and immediately hot water rushed down, burning him. He ignored that, moving the knob to the other direction, bearing the inferno-temperature water until it became ice-cold, the only other temperature his ( _no-_ ) shower seemed to be able to create. It helped his hand, he guessed, the cold water numbing it, but, really, he hated the shower with passion. Not as much as the bath though, getting burns from the shower was nothing compared to the awfulness of the bath.

The shower was short, as they were recently, but Ray didn’t exactly mind. He couldn’t stand the sight of water for too long. Dressing, Ray glanced around the room, gritting his teeth as he noted the pictures were back, but otherwise ignored everything as the left the bathroom, the house.

It was only a block away that he noticed that he wasn’t wearing shoes but he honestly didn’t care enough so he kept walking

Walking. Walking Walking.

He truly wasn’t sure how long he walked, could have been five seconds, could have been a few hours, a few days, but he found himself in front of a body of water soon enough. Maybe it was a lake, maybe it was an ocean, hell it could have been a very convincing pool for all he knew. He only noticed he man he stood next to, the blond man taller than him, a smile on his face ( _I’ve always loved water, did I mention that?_ ).

Ray looked away, back towards the water and started walking. The blond haired man Ray misplaced the name of but _definitely_ knew, hands moved in the direction of Ray, like he was trying to desperately grab him and stop Ray’s decent into the water but was too far away, despite the fact that he should theoretically be able to reach.

Before Ray’s lungs filled with water, the name came to him and he smiled, mouthing the syllables.

_(was)_

* * *

When Ray woke up, he didn’t move, not for a long time, just trying to recall what he saw in his dream( _why do you do this to yourself?_ ), but only remembered two names that filled him with sadness and bitter-sweet memories so ignored them, it wasn’t the first time he’d woken up to names on the tip of his tongue.

He almost felt like making a joke at that, Ray smiled, it would be okay then. It’ll be okay. _I’ll be okay._

Ignoring the lie, Ray stood up, glancing down, noting that his clothes were dripping wet, not knowing why but not caring enough, Ray just changed and left the house, not bothering to shower.

He didn’t walk, hailing a cab, whose driver didn’t even ask for directions before they were driving and Ray wondered if he knew _a_ cab driver enough for them to know where to take him. He didn’t question it though, not trusting himself to speak, feeling like water would spurt from his lips the moment he opened them.

When they arrived where ever the driver took him to, the other only said: “Go.”

Which Ray did, noting he was in front of a bank, the stillness of the world not bothering him at that point, and walked up to the door to enter. He turned around to thank the driver, just to be polite despite his fear, but the car was gone. Ray wondered if the car was actually a cab or a random car but couldn’t think of an answer.

He was shoved inside by a man with a red beard, glasses on the bridge of his nose, and Ray looked at him, frowning, trying _so hard_ to place him that he completely missed the shout of: “Get down!”

He did however notice when there was a gun pointed at his forehead and a young boy, maybe about four, clinging to his leg.

He was almost certain that the kid was pleading for his life, just stings of: “Please, please, don’t hurt him-”

He turned his head, noticing the bearded haired man once again, the way he held himself reminding Ray of his situation and

suddenly

it

_clicked._

The instant it did, however, Ray was on the ground, the little child crying, and the gun in someone’s hand scorching, three holes in their victim’s body.

_(you)_

* * *

Ray’s eyes fluttered open, hands flying to his chest, where he was surprised to note a few holes. They were suspiciously round and when Ray sat up, hands trying to touch his back, he noted that the tears there were much bigger. But when he actually took the shirt off, staring, he wondered when he ordered a red ‘people like grapes’ shirt. It wasn’t until he had dressed fully that the thought of “there was no red coloured grape shirt” came to mind. Ray ignored the shirt altogether after that, walking out of the room as fast as he could.

He didn’t want to leave nor shower so Ray walked to the kitchen, despite the fact that he’d most likely burn the house down ( _you_ know _he can’t cook, why would you_ ever _think it was a good idea?!_ ).

The weren’t any pictures around but Ray did notice the small things that weren’t his own (five cases of GTA V next to each other, a green scarf-) and he swallowed, trying hard not to concentrate on them, turning the stove on.

But the way a _certain_ picture ( _it’s like a family portrait!_ ) caught his eye made the anger in his body spike up and he walked over to it and threw it on the floor, the glass picture frame that he’d bought just as a fuck you to _them_ , breaking. Watching the stupid picture be unharmed filled with him strange emotions though, and he grabbed it, ignoring the way his hand was cut by the glass on the floor.

He wasn’t sure what came over him but walking over to the stove, dropping the picture above it, Ray didn’t even think of the repercussions of his actions.

He didn’t dare look back down, at what he had just done, so Ray closed his eyes, closed them until the room was covered in smoke and it was hard to breathe because the smoke obscured the objects that were not his.

He lied to himself that the reason he closed his eyes wasn’t the man in the room, with a grin and wheat-coloured hair and a name Ray loved.

_(what has)_

* * *

Ray didn’t remember waking up, the first thing he could even vaguely recollect was staring ahead of him, driving in a car he knew inside out but wasn’t his ( _he doesn’t have a drivers licence, of course we have to drive him everywhere_ ) with the seat next to his occupied by a man he actually remembered but refused to admit he did, the man whose arms were covered in tattoos unnaturally silent.

“You’re being unhelpful,” the man spoke, his voice almost making Ray shiver, it had been _so long_ since anyone spoke. Had it been years? Months?

“Just let it go, don’t dare sing something from that awful movie,” the other man warned despite the fact that Ray couldn’t bring himself to even open his mouth, wondering if his companion noticed the ashes and smell of smoke that seemed to follow him everywhere. Or how he dripped water. Or how his shirt had surprising holes and his lower half was covered in blood.

“You _have_ to, Ray,” the use of his name made Ray freeze, every bit of control in his body slipping away.

“Ge-”

Everything went dark.

_(happened)_

* * *

Ray never liked waiting in line. Maybe because it wasted his time but, in his mind, he disliked the proximity of people he didn’t know. Which was the reason he usually used the self-checkout, in small coffee shops however, that was impossible. It didn’t matter that it was his favourite coffee shop, with its homely brown walls and a worker he’d come to know over his time spent there.

It didn’t take a lot of time for him to get to the counter, smiling at the woman with blonde hair on the other side, to which she just asked: “The usual?”

“Yeah,” Ray nodded, not even thinking of getting out his wallet, something that she grinned at.

“You’re learning,” she laughed, hair not in a bun, “I’ll get the coffee.”

The drink was given to him in record time, Ray took it, sat down on the couch that felt only comfortable and didn’t mind the bitter taste.

Standing up, he called over his shoulders, throwing the cup into the trash: “See you soon, Barbara!”

She laughed, yelling back: “Greet Burnie for me!”

_(to me?)_

* * *

Two car crashes.

Smoke inhalation.

Drowning.

Shot.

Ray wondered if he was dead.

Maybe he wasn’t, maybe he just continued to live through those deaths as a way of coping.

Maybe, however, he _was_ dead, maybe he had to achieve _something_ to see them again.

Really, there was no question what he would do.

His boys came above all.

_[This was you, what has happened to me?]_

**Author's Note:**

> is it possible to see that i wrote this when tired and in less time i usually spend on fics because i sure as hell think so
> 
> (also d wanted a sequel so im going to work on that now)


End file.
